Time Stands Still
by Torby Tiptoe
Summary: This story needed to be uploaded a second time because it was being stupid and crackish :C. Anyway, it is inspired by the slutty reputation Hiroki is said to have, acquired from fics and rumors, not really the show tee hee. Rated M for light smut. Enjoy


*Note: There is a thirteen hour time difference between Japan and North America (or at least the part where I live heheh)*

_12:04 pm, Saturday, America_

Nowaki uncapped the pen and awkwardly clasped it as he gazed at the blank sheet before him. Here, he would write his lover another letter, one that spilled his feelings, current situation, and desires. And, by now, Nowaki was positive that the letter would be enveloped and addressed, and even stamped, yet it would never be sent; and oddly, this provided a strange comfort. If he could narrate his determination to further his career for his beloved to himself through letters to Hiroki, he was inwardly encouraged to concentrate and prosper more, so that he may return home as soon as possible. He never intended for Hiroki to actually read these letters; they served more as a guide and constant reminder for himself.

_Dear Hiro-san, _Nowaki began to scribble.

_1:04 am, Sunday, Japan_

The apartment door swung open, and Hiroki stumbled in, his lips briefly detaching from the man he currently embraced. He promptly pulled away, shut the door, and collapsed onto the nearby sofa with the stranger. Their mouths clashed once more, tongues invading one another's mouths, groans and sighs and grunts muffled by the sensation of skin rubbing together. This man's kisses were foreign to Hiroki; when their lips met, the kisses were rough, not passionate; hurried, not enjoyed; needed, not wanted.

This man marked the first person Hiroki had ever laid lips on, besides Nowaki, in over six years. And yet, it was Nowaki's absence that brought Hiroki to lead this stranger to his home. He was so desperate for the love and intimacy that had bestowed his world for six years, now abruptly halted. He achingly needed some release, and this seemed like the only plausible method.

And sadly, Nowaki, the only thing Hiroki truly wanted in this world, was permanently gone. Hiroki knew that he needed to realize and accept that, and yet he never truly could—or would. And that realization of realizing that he could not realize what he _needed_ to be realized angered Hiroki deeply, which caused him to kiss the man more fervently.

_12:10 pm, Saturday, America_

Nowaki paused to shake his hand, as it throbbed from grasping the pen too hard. He took the time to peer down at his unfinished letter. He'd spent the last six minutes describing in full detail his first American ballgame, and how he'd obtained the ticket free from a colleague.

_Enough small talk, _Nowaki decided. _I need to remind Hiro-san (and myself) how much I miss and love him. _

And that small thought triggered Nowaki's unsettled and anxious emotions dying to be released onto the paper.

_1:10 am, Sunday, Japan_

By now, the pair had ended up sprawled across the floor, too preoccupied to care, or even notice in Hiroki's case. Thoughts and memories of solely Nowaki are what currently circulated through his mind, and he was intent to pretend this man was Nowaki. At least that way, he could _pretend_ to be happy, an emotion he had not experienced in months—three months and two days to be exact (not that he was keeping count).

His partner began to roughly unbutton his shirt, but it was a task that required complete concentration, and he swiftly grew impatient. Instead, he impulsively ripped the shirt off and discarded it. Hiroki did not object or even stop kissing him, but being who he was, he could not help but mentally note that was the new shirt he'd purchased only days earlier, intended for work, and an _expensive_ one at that! _Nowaki never ripped my work shirts, _he grudgingly realized.

But his thoughts were interrupted as the stranger's hands suddenly groped new territory of Hiroki's semi-ravaged body.

_12:18 pm, Saturday, America_

As he finished his current sentence, Nowaki flipped the paper over and began writing on the other side. He scrawled down his sentimental thoughts frantically, as if they would vanish if they did not appear explained in the letter—sort of like he had vanished without a trace from Japan.

He could not abridge in words how unbearably he yearned to see, feel, and taste his lover. And it had only been three months or so. Nowaki felt desperately lonely, both mentally and physically, and with about nine months in America to go, writing these personal letters was one of the few ways he could truly express himself.

_1:18 am, Sunday, Japan_

Within moments, Hiroki's attire was flung randomly across the room, and the man leaning over him, nipping and groping at his sensitive flesh, was also unclothed, save for a pair of boxers.

As the stranger's lips rapidly engulfed Hiroki's cock, he groaned and had to stop himself from crying "Nowaki!" And that was when he realized that he did not even know the name of this individual presently sucking fervently on his penis.

_12:22 pm, Saturday, America_

At last, the letter was complete. Nowaki looked over his masterpiece (which, in the end, was three pages long). He counted eleven _'I love you'_s, six _'I miss you'_s and three _'I love you and miss you so much!'_s.

Being fully aware of how cheesy it was, Nowaki discreetly kissed the letter before he carefully folded it and stuck in into an envelope. He sealed it, wrote down Hiroki's address, added a stamp, and looked approvingly at the final product.

Nowaki then stuffed the letter into a bag with others exactly like it, waiting to be mailed. This had become Nowaki's weekly routine ever since he traveled to America, and he was quite content with it. Weeks worth of letters were piled inside, and that is exactly where Nowaki wanted them to stay. He clutched the bag and brought it close to him for a second. "I'm sorry Hiro-san," he whispered. "I love you."

_1:22 am, Sunday, Japan_

Hiroki shuddered as the man delicately licked every last drop of semen splattered on his dick. It hadn't taken long for Hiroki to come, being as horny and sexually deprived as he was. When the man sat up, he looked Hiroki in the eyes, smirking mischievously. The eager and hungry gleam of his eyes revealed to Hiroki that he had further sexual intentions.

"Nnn…" Hiroki mumbled, and forced himself to look away when Nowaki's face flashed before him. Even though his former lover had abandoned him, and even though he already cheated on him, Hiroki could not bring himself to perform what his body was aching for. He turned to look at the man, blushing embarrassedly. "Listen…um…?"

The man opened his mouth, Hiroki assumed, to reveal his name, when he was cut off. "Look, I really wanted this…and you probably did too, I guess, but I can't do this with you. Not tonight, anyway."

The stranger grumbled and rolled his eyes. _It's understandable, _Hiroki mentally sympathized. _Nobody likes to be cockblocked. But I'm not ready for this…fuck you, Nowaki!_

Finally, the awkward silence was broken when the man spoke. "Alright," he reluctantly agreed, standing up to fetch his discarded clothes that were strewn throughout the room. "But anytime that you're, you know, ready…call this number." He handed Hiroki his business card and headed for the door.

_12:25 pm, Saturday, America/1:25 am, Sunday, Japan_

It was a challenging, sentimental time for both separated lovers. Although he wanted to send them, Nowaki had accepted that his love letters would remain with him in America. Although Hiroki wanted to remain faithful to his lover (if he could still call him that), he knew that he needed release, both sexually and mentally.

It was heart wrenching for them both to realize that there would be more unsent letters written and more nameless men fooled around with; and yet, they both knew that the only way for them to stop their imprudent hobbies was to be reunited.

_Soon enough,_ Nowaki thought.

_Yeah right, bullshit, _Hiroki thought.

~END~


End file.
